


His Name Was Walter

by strawberrypop11



Series: Ficlets & Short Stories [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bullying, Gay Male Character, M/M, POV First Person, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrypop11/pseuds/strawberrypop11
Summary: Some people can't understand others differences, like how Tim can't understand one of his classmate's sexuality.
Series: Ficlets & Short Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550254
Kudos: 2





	His Name Was Walter

There was once a boy in my classroom, his name was Walter. He was a ginger with bucked teeth that showed as he smiled, and he always wore orange overalls that draped over his boney figure. With a blue shirt underneath, and a white handkerchief tied around his throat, He sat stationed, at the back of the class, alone. He listened to the lessons and talked if he was called on. Though, every time he talked, there was a thick southern accent present, and it laced heavily in with his nasal tenor. 

Nobody liked his accent. Nobody liked Walter. 

However, I do remember the first time I came across the strangeness that was him.

I remember it clearly, it was at a local laundromat near the town square. It was a place where everybody goes to, and had such cool little shops with arcade games inside. My mother at the time, had given me the chore of running down to _Bubbles_ , the local laundromat, and do my laundry for a change. Instead, I got my friends, and we were going to go to _Bubbles_ , but do all but the laundry. So, I planned out that we were going to play one of our favorite games that they had down there, _Mr Doom_.

Ah, we were so excited. But as we went into the place, we saw the most gingerest hair any ginger could have. That Walter Pitdow stood there by the dryers, holding a hot pink laundry basket in his skinny hands, gathering up the last set of his neatly folded laundry, and placing it inside his basket. But, what caught our attention the most, was his clothing. 

Walter’s clothing was decorated with all sorts of bright colors. Most of them were overalls and shirts, but none had a hint of darkness in any of their outlines or forms; they were quite girly, and it did catch our eyes, yes it did. But, what my friends yelled out to Walter, was more attention bringing then none. The words that were strewn out of my friends mouths didn’t look like it fazed Walter at all. At least from a distance, it didn't seem to. But, when we came towards him, I truly saw that expression of his, and It would be the greatest facade I would ever encounter in a man. For when I said my first word towards him. I couldn’t even remember why I did it. I knew it was offensive and wrong. But, I ignored it and pictured it just as a joke. A joke that would make me into something I didn’t want to be, but I didn't care at that moment.

I saw Walter cry as the words left my mouth, hearing my friends laughing at him, edged me on further.

“Fairy boy!” I shouted, “Ain’t nothing good for but suckin' from a glory hole!” 

The thrill of the insult pursued through me like a sick addiction. The next thing we knew, Walter ran out of that laundromat. Then the next day, at school. Walter didn’t show up. Then it turned into weeks that he didn’t show up, those weeks turned into months, those months turned into a year. Walter didn’t come back. 

It wasn’t until I was older, when I finally heard years after from my time in 5th grade, that he was home schooled by his uncle. Then when I was in college, I heard from acquaintances of Walter that he was getting married to a wealthy man by the name of Thomas. When I heard that, I got mad. Why did some fag get the goodies? Why did some fag get the fame? Ain’t the right ones supposed to get it all? So then on, I kept a grudge against Walter. That grudge held out in my twenties, then I realized that the world was changing around me. One day, I woke up and noticed I was alone. Had no girlfriend, had no friends. Just a lonely, angry man, in an empty house, that he didn’t even buy with his own savings. Getting inheritance from the old man was all I was good for.

Though those dreadful years came by quickly. I was in my late thirties. The house, I noticed, next to mine was huge, but empty, just like me. But I heard someone finally moved in yesterday. I don’t know who, I didn’t care to go outside and see.

But, it wasn’t until a few weeks had passed, when I was sitting on my leather recliner, watching the latest football game, when I suddenly heard the soft knocks coming from my front door. I signed, getting up, but not before cracking my back. Then, I tiredly made my way to the door. I opened it, only to be faced with a very tall, very handsome man. Next to him, was another man, holding tightly to the other’s forearm. A flash of light orange hair came into view, as all the memories came back into the endless puzzle of my mind,

“Hey, Tim, remember me?” that southern ginger whispered, his green eyes were filled with so much hurt, as they greeted my dull ones, “It's the fairy boy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Dear readers, this was a story I wrote a long time ago. I thought it was time I would share it with everyone on this wonderful cite. I hope you guys enjoy it and if you have any questions, concerns, or anything on your mind, just comment down below; I'll get back to you shortly. ♥


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